


Disturbance in the Field

by orbythesea



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-21
Updated: 2004-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 21:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbythesea/pseuds/orbythesea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He remembers the name of every ex he's helped her forget."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disturbance in the Field

>   
>    
> _I could have caused your heart to yield  
>  But I was only a disturbance in the field  
> Of your dreams.  
> And I will never see you cry  
> You won't be with me when I die  
> A waste of you and me  
> A tragedy.  
> -Emmylou Harris, "Tragedy"_   
>    
> 

He remembers the name of every ex he's helped her forget.

Mark, in New York. Their first campaign together. He was drinking Jack Daniels and trying to write a concession speech that didn't sound like every other concession speech he'd written before. It was early in the campaign and she still had hope, but he had six years on her and knew better. He was absorbed in his bourbon when she walked in and he didn't see her at first. The guy three barstools over who had spent the better part of an hour trying to talk to Toby about his marital problems broke his concentration with a long, appreciative whistle. Toby looked up and, for a moment, all he saw was legs. She'd never wear a skirt like that to work, and by the time his mind caught up with his eyes and he recognized her, the Whistler was advancing.

As he'd done so many times for his sisters, he raised a hand to her and called "I'm glad you made it," then rose from his stool and crossed the bar to place a kiss on her cheek. She understood immediately and grinned broadly at him, then returned the kiss. He bought her a drink, and she told him Mark had left her, so he bought her another drink and told her he didn't think the campaign stood a chance. When the bartender finally cut them off, she confessed that the apartment was Mark's and she had nowhere to go. He hailed a cab and offered her his couch, alcohol making him forget that he sold the couch three months ago to pay the rent.

When they realized this, she collapsed on his bed, laughing at their predicament and her shirt stretched tightly against her chest. Somehow he managed to forget that mere hours ago he'd fought to protect her dignity and he couldn't keep his eyes off the peaks of her nipples pushing against the thin cotton. Many years later they would argue over who kissed who first, but neither would deny that it was her hands pushing his boxers to the floor or his hands shoving her skirt over her hips so he could enter her.

When he woke up the next morning, she was already gone, and when he stumbled into the office a half an hour late, she gave no indication that anything had happened between them. She moved her things into a studio above a liquor store and by the time the candidate lost she'd moved on to Jeremy. He was locking the offices for the last time when he turned and she was there and the look in her eyes said it all.

Her apartment showed no traces of Jeremy, although he suspected the pile of cracked Culture Club LPs on the street below her window were probably hurled down with a good deal of force. She didn't give him time to consider this though, because too quickly her hands were tearing at his buttons and her mouth was on his neck and his erection was pressing against her through his jeans.

The image of her moving above him in that little New York studio would keep him company for more nights than he cares to admit, and he still has a pale crescent shaped scar on his shoulder from where her fingernails broke his skin as she came.

"You can take a shower," she offered when they'd finished, carefully rolling a joint on her coffee table.

He showered while she got stoned, and as he was pulling his pants back on she asked if he knew anyone who'd take over her lease, because she'd just accepted a position in DC with EMILY's List. It was only later that he realized that when she said 'just' she meant while he was in the shower.

EMILY's List brought an ex who she referred to simply as D. In the shower afterwards he noticed a bottle of lavender-rose body wash and he knew she broke out if she used anything that wasn't hypoallergenic. He didn't ask any questions when she parted the curtains and stepped into the shower with him and she didn't protest when without warning he pinned her against the wall and shoved two fingers inside of her.

A few months later he heard that she'd left EMILY's List to work for a Senator from Maine and date a guy named Aaron. He found himself in her hotel room in Los Angeles at the '94 Convention while her boss talked about the future of women in the Democratic Party. Aaron, she told him, was listening to her voicemail telling him she wouldn't be coming back to DC.

She didn't explain why she was leaving and he didn't ask, but she smelled of hotel shampoo and the skin of her chest, her stomach, her breasts was covered in red splotches. He recoiled when he saw them, and she explained, as if to a child, that they were the result of hot water and scrubbing too hard. He wondered what had made her feel so dirty.

He shared a cab back to the Staples Center with a freshman Congresswoman from Maryland, and he alternately credits and blames CJ for his marriage. She was seeing Doug from Justice when Andi left him and he showed up on her doorstep drunk and belligerent. One look at him and a few words to Doug and they were alone in her apartment. She made him tea that he never drank, because she set it on the coffee table and he pulled her into his lap and they ended up a pile of limbs and clothing on her living room floor while the tea got cold. Three weeks later, she was on his doorstep and Doug was gone and they christened his new apartment.

Albert dumped her over the phone when they were in Seattle and the plane almost left without them.

She woke him at 3 a.m. after they spent the day debating a lame duck session. He arched an eyebrow at her and she confessed, a bit sheepishly, that Danny Concannon had turned down a job offer outside the Press Room. There would be time for judgment and anger in the morning, and he pulled her hard against him and kissed her.

For a while, then, there was no one and he stopped thinking about the cool of her skin beneath his fingers and the warmth of her mouth against him. There was no one and then there was Simon and she came to him and it was different. It was slow and painfully sweet and she didn't come but afterwards she cried. He wrapped his arms around her for the first time since the first time and this time she didn't pull away. She was still sleeping when he woke up the next day, and they made love in the shower before work. For two weeks, she came to him every night and he force fed her oatmeal every morning and then without warning she stopped showing up.

So it was Mark and it was Simon and now it's Ben and her mouth is hot against his and her skin is pale and smooth. He's left with the unquenchable desire to mark it, to leave some kind of evidence of their coupling, and she gasps as he draws the skin just above her collar bone between his teeth. She struggles against him, trying to push him away as he sucks at it because they both know how easily she bruises, but he doesn't care. In this moment he wants to somehow own her. He pulls away and watches as the angry red marks appear on her skin. Tomorrow they'll have turned blue and purple and she'll glare at him all day because the turtleneck she'll be wearing will be his fault.

Right now he doesn't care as he pushes her camisole over her head and she makes easy work of the buttons of his shirt. His mouth is against her breast and she gasps as he flattens his tongue against her nipple. She arches towards him and he closes his teeth around it, groaning as she digs her nails into his back. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her head thrown back and it leaves him breathless for a moment. He doesn't remember her looking this beautiful all the other times.

CJ, he's learned, likes to be in control, and somehow she seems to know when his mind turns to the curve of her neck and she pushes him away, drawing his mouth to hers for a kiss then slowly turning them until he's flat on his back. He's still wearing his slacks and she straddles his thighs as she undoes his belt then his fly and when she slides a hand inside his boxers he squeezes his eyes shut and he moans as she strokes him. Her face shows only amusement and he doesn’t remember amusement before but he doesn't have time to contemplate this because without warning she pulls her hand away, urging his hips up so she can finish stripping him, and then her mouth is around him. He thinks he hears himself rasping her name and God's but his voice is distant, the blood pounding in his ears making it difficult to hear anything at all.

She releases him just before he can push her away and stands at the foot of the bed. He watches her remove the rest of her clothing and her body is long and lithe and other 'L' words flood his brain but he pushes them aside because they can't help him here. She's got a gleam in her eye that says he's just along for the ride tonight but he wants more than that.

He sits up and shakes his head at her before she can straddle him again and she sticks her lip out in a mockery of a child's pout. At the end of the bed he draws her close, pressing kisses across her stomach. He watches the muscles in her thighs clench when he slides first one, then two fingers inside of her, and he can feel her stomach muscles contract when his thumb finds her clit. She braces her hands against his shoulders and he traces her belly button with his tongue, fingers pumping slowly.

Her knees are about to buckle when he withdraws suddenly and he takes advantage of her weakness to draw her onto the bed, laying her gently on her back trailing feather light kisses across her ribcage before dipping lower. He hasn't gone down on anyone in years, doesn't enjoy it, but he wants to do this for her tonight.

She breathes his name as he spreads her legs and jumps at the first touch of his tongue against her folds. It takes him a moment to realize she's trying to pull away and he lifts his head, confused.

"Your beard," she says, closing her legs a little. "It hurts-- I'm sorry--"

Shame washes over him and he moves away from her completely, angry with himself for not thinking about that before. "I'm sorry," he whispers, not looking at her, and when he hears her laughter he turns, surprised.

"It was just--" she's still laughing and soon he's chuckling with her and then he's on his back and she's lowering herself onto him. He groans and bucks against her involuntarily, pushing further and faster than she'd intended. Her eyes go wide and she stills for a moment, giving her body time to adjust to the invasion, then she leans forward and kisses him before beginning to move.

This is somehow both familiar and new, and he steadies his hands on her hips, helping to guide her, trying to control her rhythm but CJ never lets him have the upper hand for long. With a wicked grin she reaches down to stroke her clit as she moves, her finger grazing him with every thrust. He squeezes her hip to let her know he's close and she squeezes even more tightly around him as he feels himself release inside her. There are stars on the back of his eyelids and he can hear her crying out as her orgasm hits a moment behind his.

She collapses against his chest and they've done this enough times for him to know she doesn't want him to move until she gives him permission, but he's sick and tired of her rules. He wraps his arms around her and she tenses, trying to pull away but he tightens his grip and all she can manage is to move her lower body away from his. "Toby," she says, and it's a plea, and her eyes are wide and dark and panicked.

"Shh," he breathes, releasing her enough for her to roll off of him, then tightening his grip again once she's lying on the bed. He waits for her to relax and he thinks she might even be asleep when he finally lets his arms go slack. Her eyes snap open and she stares at him, confused, and he chuckles. "What happened with Ben?" he asks, softly.

"We still annoy each other," she confesses, moving to rest her chin on his chest. "I don't like to be annoyed." He runs his fingers through her hair and she sighs against him. He's about to ask her if she's sleeping when her eyes snap open "I should go," she says too loudly.

"Or you could stay," he suggests, tightening his arms around her in anticipation of the inevitable, of her pulling away.

"You don't think you annoy me?" she asks, struggling against his arms.

He releases her and sighs as she scurries out of bed and into the bathroom. He watches her through the half open door as she adjusts the water and disappears behind the shower curtain.

He remembers the name of every ex he helped her forget, and every time she walks out, he wishes he had someone to help him forget her.

>   
>    
> _That's how the story goes  
>  Our chapter's coming to a close  
> We are history  
> But I will always think of you  
> Every day until my days are through  
> You made me believe  
> In tragedy.  
> -Emmylou Harris, "Tragedy"_   
>    
> 


End file.
